This Old Man
by DeadPigeon
Summary: A May / December romance for the ages.


**This Old Man**

She had touched him in the forest, her hand on his arm and that was all it took. Afterwards he couldn't keep himself from spouting some nonsense about a "strangely compelling masculine figure." It was telling.

There was something wrong with him. He had been trying hard to hide it, but ever since his regeneration, physical contact with others seemed to send his body into overload. The kiss from the girl at Nottingham castle, the hug from Saber, it was all too much.

He had isolated himself in that basement on Trenzalore all those years ago, fighting the good fight but never getting close to anyone. They would all die eventually and losing that many people would be too painful to bear. So he denied himself. And now he was paying the price for that denial. Now he wanted and desired all the time, and it made him cross. Why was he given to these feelings in such an old body? Why wasn't he still young looking like he had once been? He still felt vigorous and strong, but looking at himself now…he felt foolish.

He felt especially foolish near Clara. He had thought of himself as her boyfriend before he'd changed. Why hadn't he acted on it then, when she would have wanted him? Now, he thought it was best to push her away. So he left her on the moon and made her choose. And it had worked…for a while.

Why did she have to call him up and ask for one last trip? As much as it had hurt him to leave her the way he did, it hurt even worse to see her again. But truth be told, he wanted to see her again. She was right. He was addicted. He was addicted to her.

He almost lost all his composure on that bloody train ride. She had held his arm tightly and rested her head on his shoulder as she sweetly confessed, "_In could never hate you." _He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her then and there. It was all he could do to get her to change the subject. _"Can we talk about the planets now?" _And so, as they continued to travel together, he talked, and talked and talked and talked. It was the only way to keep his mind from straying where it didn't need to go.

He was standing next to Clara on her balcony, thinking all these thoughts as they watched the forests of London disappear. He was even thinking about leaving her again when another realization struck him. _Why was he still parking the Tardis in her bedroom? _Her living room was larger. Why didn't he park there?

_You daft old fool! _He knew exactly why.

He turned abruptly from the balcony and hurried to the Tardis. He had to leave, now!

As he fled he could hear her calling to him as she followed.

"Doctor…Doctor!"

He made it to the Tardis door before she caught up to him.

"Doctor, where are you going?"

He didn't know what to say. "I have a thing."

"You have another thing?"

"Yes." He fumbled with the lock on the Tardis. "And it might take a while."

Clara was immediately suspicious. "Doctor, nothing you do can possibly take…a while. You have a time machine."

He finally managed to open the door, but he wouldn't turn and look at her.

"Well, this might. So go and live your life with PE." He moved to enter the Tardis, but Clara grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Doctor?" He still wouldn't look at her. "Are you ditching me?"

She noticed his hand tightening on the Tardis door frame. "I have a thing," he repeated and tried to pull away. Clara tightened her grip and pulled back.

"Doctor, what's wrong. Something's wrong. I know it. What aren't you telling me?"

His hearts ached. He finally turned his head and looked down at her hand on his arm. His reply was terse. "Please let go."

What she saw in his eyes made her shiver before letting go.

"Why?" She demanded. "Why do you have to go now?"

He couldn't explain. "It's just the way it has to be."

Clara struggled to keep her tears at bay. She should have left it at angry. Angry was easy. This…this was too much to bear. "Why did you come back then? You should have just stayed away." A few tears escaped.

He finally looked at her, and upon seeing the heartache in her eyes he had to close his. Her heartache felt worse than his own. "I'm sorry", he mumbled in his deep raspy voice.

Clara wiped her eyes. "Well if this really is goodbye…then I apologize for this in advance." She knew he hated a scene and especially physical contact, but she was determined to say goodbye properly. And that meant one last hug.

She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck before he could protest. She felt his sharp intake of breath as his body stiffened. She expected that, but she never expected to feel his arms around her. But there they were…tentative at first. She felt his hands at the middle of her back, resting.

She squeezed him a little tighter and whispered in his ear. "I'm going to miss you."

She loosened her hold so she could give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek. Her movement had the Doctor turning his head and the kiss she was going to place on his cheek became a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

She had accidentally breached his defenses, and he couldn't help what happened next. He moved his head further to capture her mouth with his. He felt her tense up, but now that he was in…he was all in, and he pressed her tiny figure against his.

Clara was shocked. Shocked at how much she had missed his touch. And the kiss? It was unexpected, but she found herself responding. It was awkward and intense for them both. They were crossing a forbidden line but the moment swept them away. It was the sharing of breath, the taste of yin and yang mixing into an intoxicating nectar that only made them want more. His hand slid upwards to the back of her neck as he tried to capture more of her. Clara helped by running her hands through his hair and was briefly surprised that it felt softer than it looked. Thought aside, she grabbed a handful and pulled him further in. Their tongues slid together, soft and wet, and their moans became a duet.

He spun her around and pushed her up against the Tardis door. His lips were no longer the only thing he was pressing against her. She responded instinctively by wrapping her left leg around his. He found her leg with his hand and pulled it up higher, almost picking her up off the ground. His hand continued up the fabric barrier of her slacks till he found the opening where her pants met her shirt. He slid his hand underneath her jumper and the warmth of her skin enticed him further onward. He found her breast and then… he quickly pulled away.

He stumbled back so fast his legs collided with her bed and he found himself sitting. He was mortified at what he'd done. He looked at her briefly before burying his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have…" He shook his head.

As she adjusted her shirt, Clara herself was surprised at how far things had gotten. He wasn't even Her Doctor, or her "boyfriend", as he had so definitively informed her. That revelation had surprised her too. She'd always fancied him, but the way he kept himself apart from others and from her, she never thought that what just happened was ever a possibility. _Why_ _now_? She wondered. Why not before he changed?

She looked at the wretched figure now huddled shamefully on her bed. He needed help. He needed her. She approached carefully and knelt down on the floor in front of him so that she would be at eye level. "Doctor."

He didn't budge, so she entreated him again. "Doctor, please look at me." Instead of looking, he repeatedly mumbled something into his hands. She thought it sounded like the word "stupid". She wasn't getting anywhere like this, so she reached up and took hold of his wrists. The mumbling stopped. "Please." She entreated again. His hands parted and the anguish on his face was painful.

"I'm sorry Clara. I'm a foolish old man. Can you ever forgive me?"

"If you're foolish Doctor, than so am I. There's nothing to forgive."

"But…I'm not your boyfriend."

She smiled at the reference. "No…you certainly are not."

He pulled his wrists free and motioned his hands towards his face. "I'm an old man Clara."

"Yes you are. About two thousand years old if I remember you correctly."

His brow furrowed. That's not what I mean."

She patted the back of his hand to calm him. "I know."

He pulled his hand away. "You don't need this."

There was one thing she did need. She needed to understand. "So why now?"

He was confused by her question. "Why "what" now?"

"Why did you kiss me just now? Why didn't you just leave?"

He didn't answer right away, but took up a pensive pose with one arm across his waist and the other supporting the hand now curled around his chin and mouth.

"I tried." He finally said.

Now she was the one confused. "Tried what?"

"I tried to leave, just now."

He was avoiding, so she pressed. "And the kiss?"

This question took him from pensive to earnest and he began rubbing his hands together.

"Nine hundred years."

"What?" She didn't understand his reply.

"I was on Trenzalore for nearly nine hundred years. And in those years do you know how many days I thought about you? About seeing you again?"

She could only shake her head.

"Every one."

She realized what he was really saying. "Oh my god. You waited for me. For nine hundred years."

"But then I came back with this face." He flailed his hands at himself again. "With these lines!"

She caught his hands and stilled then on his knees. "Age is just a number."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Quoting an old earth adage is not going to put everything right Clara."

A smile crept up the left side of her mouth. "You're only as young as you feel."

"Oh, that's better," he snarked. "I must be at least ten thousand years old then."

She kept on. "Beauty is only skin deep."

"Yes, well that's because we're all blood and guts underneath."

She laughed and his eyes laughed with her.

"Age before beauty," she taunted, still laughing.

She expected another rude reply, but what he said next surprised her.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

She stopped laughing and flushed under his intense gaze.

"And if it must be said, you are beautiful Clara. Even with that overly round face of yours."

She was going to reply with another adage but she had a sudden epiphany.

"Foreplay!" She blurted out.

"What?"

"This bantering that we do together, its foreplay."

He had to think a moment about what she said.

"_No."_

"_Yes!"_

"_No."_

He looked at Clara.

"_Really?"_

She shook her head in assent.

"So", she said as she stood up.

"So?" He repeated back to her.

Clara didn't hesitate. Stepping forward, she placed her hands on his shoulders and used her momentum to push him back onto her bed.

"So, shut up and kiss me", she demanded as she lay across his chest.

"Clara, you don't really want me." He tried to push her away.

"God, you're difficult old." She pushed herself up from him and leaned on her elbow planted squarely on his chest. She could see him squint as it dug into his breastbone.

"You want to know what I want Doctor? I want you to stay right where you are. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded his assent, but she thought it probably more to do with stopping the pain in his chest more than it had to do with doing what she asked. Either way, she got what she wanted.

She got up from the bed and crossed the room. She stood in front of her bedroom window for a moment, and then turned around to face him.

"Can you see me Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Can you see my clothes?"

"Yes."

Can you see my face?"

"Yes."

"Can you see the color of my hair?"

He thought this was getting silly, where was she going with this? "Yes, of course."

The questions stopped and she abruptly turned away from him and closed the curtains.

Turning back, she began to ask the same questions.

"Can you see me Doctor?"

She was now a darkened figure standing across the room.

He was becoming exasperated. "Yes, I can still see you"

"Can you see my clothes?"

"No, of course not, you're just a dark blob."

He still didn't get it, so she kept on with her questions. "Can you see my face?"

Exasperated, he lay back on the bed and looked at the darkness of her ceiling instead. "No," he said flatly.

'Can you see the color of my hair?"

"No, I cannot…" He stopped mid sentence.

Clara crossed the room again and stood next to the bed. She couldn't see his features in the darkened room, but she could tell his hands were on his face by the position of his arms. "Now do you understand?"

"Yes, but…"

"No buts." She had to interrupt before he could derail her progress.

She put a knee into the bed next to him and leaned in to place her hand upon his chest.

"The heart wants what it wants."

He placed his hand on top of hers. "So, Miss Oswald, you think you can win me over by spouting Dickenson. Believe me I didn't give in to Emily back then so what makes you think…?"

She shut him up with a kiss and he did not protest any further.

* * *

><p><em>Authors note: The second chapter of this story will be posted with an "M" rating. You can end the story here or continue on for more. Enjoy!<em>


End file.
